


Appreciation

by pencilguin



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Away Mission Side Effects, Classic Star Trek Shenanigans, Fluff, Humor, M/M, bottle episode style
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27138934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pencilguin/pseuds/pencilguin
Summary: [set post-s2, no spoilers for s3]Paul notices that everyone is suddenly acting very weird for some reason, and he has no idea why.Or is everyone else being normal and he is the one who’s getting paranoid?
Relationships: Hugh Culber/Paul Stamets
Comments: 9
Kudos: 72





	Appreciation

**Author's Note:**

> This has been lying around waiting to be finished and posted for a while. The first draft was written, if my file metadata is to be believed, between January and May. Then it got beta’d. Then it lay around for a few more months waiting to be edited.  
> Then I realized there’s a very real chance that this week’s episode will just Joss it all, and then I’ll feel bad about posting it. So here you go. It’s a bit of a silly idea, but I hope you’ll enjoy it.  
> Thanks so much to [Cygfa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cygfa) for beta reading it!

Stumbling and falling backwards to the ground, the last thing Paul sees is the alien rapidly approaching him before the — presumably toxic — cloud of gas it spews out engulfs him and fogs up his vision, burning in his eyes and on his tongue. Through his coughs, he hears a phaser blast pass him closely and the creature shrieking in rage and pain. Tilly’s footsteps catch up to him and he hears her yell into her communicator, “Discovery, get us out of here!”

He haphazardly rubs at his eyes now that they’ve started watering; it must be his body trying to drive out the aggressive chemicals that are attacking them. Tilly’s arms wrap around him from behind as she tries to pull him up. “C’mon, Sir, get up, quickly, before it—”

He can still barely see but he hears the movement as the alien lunges at them again. Panicking, he braces himself for the inevitable when he finally feels the familiar sensation of the transporter locking on to them and beginning to convert their every atom into energy patterns.

Back in the transporter room on the Discovery, they both stumble to the ground into a heap of limbs. His breath is heaving, adrenaline still rushing through him. It’s unlikely that he was still able to hear the alien’s sharp claw crunching through the soil in the spot he escaped from mere seconds ago, just in time thanks to Tilly doing her best to get him out. So his brain must have filled in the sound for him, because it’s still echoing inside his head anyway.

“I — I got you — Sir,” Tilly manages to get out between gasps for air, still clinging to him. “Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay — oh gosh, I hope I wasn’t too late — are you hurt? Can you breathe?”

“Ensign,” Paul gasps out, immediately throwing himself into a coughing fit. He holds up one hand to silence her so he can finish, although it takes him a few more coughs to get there. “I’m okay.” After another pause for more coughing, so bad it almost makes him retch, he adds, “Thank you — you saved me.”

The door opens.

“Paul!”

Within less than a second, Hugh is by his side as well, crouching on the floor next to them, his hand on Paul’s shoulder, the other gently lifting up his head to check on him. He’s never quite managed to figure out what it is about Hugh’s touch that just immediately calms him (or excites him, depending on the situation), but it already makes him feel better than just a moment ago. It’s almost as if his hands possess their own kind of magic.

“The alien spewed some sort of gas at him,” Tilly explains.

Hugh nods thanks at her and gently peels Paul’s eyes open, one after the other, to inspect them. Mostly Paul just sees blurry shapes, but at least it’s more than just light and dark by now; he’s starting to make out different colors again.

“Tongue,” Hugh orders, and Paul opens his mouth and sticks it out. His mouth still feels like peach fuzz all over, and tastes bitter and disgusting, and like a hint of iron as if something has started bleeding. He can’t see Hugh’s expression but the disapproving noise he makes has Paul picturing furrowed brows and concerned eyes.

“Not good?” he tries to ask with his jaw still opened wide but it’s more an indistinguishable slur than actual words.

Hugh sighs. “I’d like to take you to sickbay for further examination and to treat the immediate effects.” His right hand leaves Paul’s face, but the other remains steadily on his arm. He addresses Tilly. “How are you, Ensign?”

“Oh, I’m fine, I’m fine!” she quickly responds, her voice almost as cheerful as usual, although a hint of concern remains. Concern for _him_. Paul is touched. Literally, in fact.

“Ensign?” he mumbles, his voice quiet as he tries not to irritate his throat further and start coughing again.

“Yes, Sir?”

“You can let go of me now.”

“I…? Oh. Ohh! Of course, sorry, Sir — I was — I just — um, sorry, yes, I’ll…” her voice awkwardly trails off as she quickly releases her grasp on him. He squints and can barely see how her face has turned bright red.

Hugh gently helps him up and escorts him to sickbay, where he sits him down on one of the biobeds and gives him something for the immediate symptoms. Whatever gas that thing spewed at him has attacked his mucosae thoroughly enough that a little blood comes out when he coughs, even out of his nose. Thanks to Hugh’s treatment, his eyes eventually stop burning and his vision clears, although he still feels wobbly and a little feverish, and most of all tired, now that his body has stopped producing adrenalin.

Sickbay is almost empty and despite technically being off-shift, Hugh insists on running several tests on Paul himself, trying to determine what it was that he got hit with, and what effects it might have on his system.

“I’ve never seen this compound before,” he mumbles, probably mostly to himself because Paul is way too exhausted to pay proper attention; as long as Hugh tells him whether he’ll be okay or not, that’s gonna be enough for him tonight. He just barely notices the other medical personnel throwing them a few more glances than usual and idly wonders if they’re glaring at Hugh when they hope he’ll see them, trying to will him to go home already and enjoy his time off work. If he’s being honest, Paul would also like that. “How are you feeling, love?” Hugh asks him.

“Tired.”

Hugh pulls his eyes away from the monitor and observes Paul lovingly. His mouth forms a warm smile. “Anything that feels critical right now?”

Paul shakes his head. “Other than the fact that you’re working off hours despite usually telling _me_ that I work too much? Not really.”

With his smile growing, Hugh takes a step closer towards Paul, practically crowding him against the bed, and putting both hands firmly on Paul’s forearms. “I was just worried about you. Couldn’t have rested if I hadn’t taken care of you personally.”

He leans in, closing the distance between their faces, and it takes a moment for Paul to catch on. Their lips almost touch before he says, “Hugh?”

Hugh stops.

“We… we’re in public,” Paul mutters quietly. It’s partly a question, partly an apology, partly a reminder.

Hugh’s eyes slowly blink open. “Right…” he says. Then he seems to regain his composure. “I’ll let the computer run the full analysis overnight, and if you notice any side effects tomorrow, we’ll investigate those.”

“Sounds good,” Paul responds with a warm, genuine smile. He doesn’t want Hugh to feel rejected because of what just happened.

Hugh lowers his voice so only Paul can hear him. “What do you say to a quiet dinner in our quarters?” Leaning forward to whisper in Paul’s ear, he adds with a smirk, “And then going to bed early?”

With a smile, Paul reaches for his hand and slides off the bed, leading the way back home.

***

Tired and still a little groggy from the lingering aftereffects of the alien gas attack from the day before, Paul drags himself out of bed and off to Engineering, where the fungi samples they collected are already waiting for him, neatly stacked and labeled by Tilly. Everyone’s heads turn towards him when he walks in, except for Linus, who’s already poring over the first few specimens.

“Morning,” Paul offers him his usual curt greeting before making space on his workstation and getting to work on the next sample in the pile. “Where’s Tilly?”

Just in this moment, the ensign walks in through the door to their cultivation bay. She freezes for a moment when she sees him, blushes again, and when she walks up to and past him to put the spore container she just filled into the rack behind his station, her nervous energy seems to have increased exponentially.

“G-good morning, Sir!” she says, with her voice a little louder and more cheerful than usual, stumbling slightly over the words.

Paul frowns for a moment but tries to hide his concern. “Good morning, Ensign Tilly. Is everything okay?”

“Huh? With me?” Her cheerfulness definitely seems forced. “Sure! I’m fine! Why’d you ask?”

“You weren’t hurt yesterday, were you? Or inhaled any of that gas?”

She waves her hand to dismiss the questions, almost knocking over the fungi stack by accident. “No, no, it had already dissipated by the time I got to you… uhm, Sir. And I’m not hurt, either.” She avoids his eyes and blushes deeper.

“Okay. But please let me know if you’re feeling unwell or anything.”

“Y-yes, I will…” She fumbles to reach for one of the samples and her arm brushes against Paul’s by accident. She jumps with a suppressed shriek and drops her sample, which Linus manages to catch before it bounces off the table. “Oh, sorry!”

Paul looks at her bright red face, frowning and now openly worried. “Ensign…”

She fidgets and stares at a spot on the floor. Paul thinks he can see something like panic in her eyes now. Then she blurts out, “Actually, I just remembered that I have something else to do — some-something urgent and — uhm, so I need to — to go somewhere else…”

“Of course,” Paul responds, taken aback. “We can handle this. You’re free to go.”

She hurries out without another look. Paul stares at the door that just closed behind her, completely confused. “What’s wrong with her?”

“No idea,” Linus responds without looking up. “She wasn’t like that before she went into the forest.”

Eventually, Paul shrugs and returns to his task, although he makes a mental note to check the cultivation bay later to see if everything’s all right in there.

***

Around noon, he messages Hugh to ask if they’re gonna have lunch together, but Hugh is swamped with work and tells Paul not to wait for him. Once he’s got his full tray, he sits down at an empty table and tries to sort out his thoughts.

It’s been a confusing day so far, and Tilly’s suspicious behavior has only been the tip of the iceberg. He rubs his temples, trying to stave off an impending headache.

“Mind if I sit here?”

He looks up and into the face of Commander Nhan, her own tray in hand. Gesturing at the seat across from him, he says, “Be my guest.”

“Thanks.” She slides into the offered chair and, without further ado, dives into her lunch. After watching him poke at his mashed potatoes for a few minutes, she asks, with her mouth still full of food, “Is everything okay?”

He swallows down a remark about table manners and sighs instead. “I don’t know. I’m starting to wonder if I’m going crazy.”

“Go on,” Nhan says calmly.

“Ensign Tilly was acting strange this morning, and I’m worried about her, but I can’t force her to go to medbay and she insisted that everything is fine… before fleeing the room.” He digs his fork into the potatoes but doesn’t actually follow through, just stares at it and the food instead. “And that’s just the beginning.” He looks up at her now. “Commander, is there anything on my face?”

She blinks, then swallows her bite. “No. Why?”

“It seems that everyone is being much nicer to me than usual all of a sudden. And I feel like they’re all staring at me. All the time.” Paul sighs again and puts the fork down. He rubs both of his hands over his face, propping himself up on his elbows. Without removing his hands, he continues, “Maybe I’m getting paranoid.”

Nhan considers his words for a moment. Glancing between his fingers, he can see her look around the room. “They might just be curious because we don’t usually sit together.”

“They were staring at me as soon as I walked in here.”

“You know, it’s possible that you’re just imagining it. It happens when you’re nervous.” After a pause, she adds more quietly, “Or depressed.”

Paul puts his hands down. “I’m not. Either of these.” He forces a smile onto his face. “But thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You know, if you want, I can investigate for you. Secretly, of course.” She grins. “It’s one of my specialties.”

Smiling becomes a little easier. “Thanks. Um… I’ll think about it.”

He finally picks his fork up again and they change the subject. After being… separated from Hugh, he’d tried to interact more with the other members of Discovery’s crew, to make new friends, but he hasn’t talked to her much so far. She’s very different from what he expected, but pleasantly so, and has a surprising, dry sense of humor that he enjoys. For a while, talking to her makes him forget about all the weirdness of the day.

***

On his way back from the Mess Hall, Paul passes a group of scientists from one of the other science labs. They’re talking animatedly as they turn around the corner in front of him, but suddenly quiet down as they become aware of his presence. Now, he’s really starting to wonder if he’s imagining all these things. Trying to ignore it all, he pushes through the rather large group in the not-too-wide corridor, bumping into the odd arm or shoulder or — 

He freezes as the group passes him and continues their conversation seemingly picking up again where they left off, but slightly more hushed, or so he believes. He spins around; they all have their backs to him now and neither of them seems to acknowledge him anymore. But… he actually just felt that, right? That wasn’t a figment of his imagination?

After a few more seconds in which his brain seems to be rebooting, he takes a turn into one of the deserted nooks of the corridor, more or less out of sight from anyone casually passing through, and where he knows the path leads to rooms that are currently rarely used. He tries to gather his mind, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths; then he instinctively picks up his communicator and calls Hugh before his brain is even actively aware of it.

_“Paul? Is everything okay?”_

“Hugh — hi, Hugh. Sorry, I just —” He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to clear his thoughts. “I just had this moment in the corridor here and I ran into a bunch of people and —”

He stops, unsure what he’s trying to say. _I think one of our fellow crewmembers slapped my ass in passing._ No way, he can’t say that. Thinking back, he’s not even sure it really happened anymore. And even if it did, it was probably an accident. Nothing intentional. Definitely nothing to worry Hugh about.

Paul can just hear his quiet, calm breathing on the other end of the comm, waiting patiently for him to continue. Hugh probably dropped everything he was doing to take his call, and Paul hopes he didn’t pull him away from any medical emergency. He lets his head fall back against the solid wall behind him and looks up at the ceiling, where the entrails of the ship are showing through the transparent panels. He takes a deep, slow breath before he continues.

“I’m sorry, Hugh. It’s probably nothing.”

_“That didn’t sound like ‘nothing’, love.”_

“Yeah — no, I know. I’ve just been kind of… out of it today. Maybe it’s an aftereffect from the mission yesterday.” He can hear in Hugh’s silence that he isn’t fully convinced. “I’m fine, really.”

_“Okay.”_

Paul breathes a small sigh of relief. That one little word from Hugh says so much more; telling him “I believe you, and I trust you.”

_“But maybe just take it easy at work today. And if you would like me to run another test or anything, just come right here, okay?”_

“I will.” He smiles, and he knows that Hugh can hear it. “Thank you. I feel better already just from talking to you.”

_“I love you.”_

It only takes him a millisecond to react, to remind himself of the old regret. Making sure not to repeat his past mistakes, he responds, “I love you, too. See you tonight.”

He hangs up, snapping his communicator shut and clinging to it for just a few seconds longer, concentrating on the feeling of the cool, smooth material digging into his palm to ground himself. After he’s collected himself, he returns to Engineering without any further interruptions. Apart from the ever-present feeling of everyone’s eyes on his neck.

***

It looks like whatever incident (or excuse, but he’ll let it slide) pulled Tilly away from the lab still has her firmly in its grasp, because she never returns. But if Paul was hoping for some peace and quiet to go through the rest of their samples, then he’s being sorely disappointed today, because it doesn’t take long after his return until he gets called to the bridge. With a sigh, he apologizes to Linus, thanks him once again for his excellent work, and excuses himself.

When he enters the bridge, all faces turn to him, and for a moment, no-one speaks a word. By now, Paul is convinced that he _isn’t_ imagining it all. Only Nhan flashes him a comradely smile. Everyone else’s staring (and the whispers that start to flare up as he approaches Saru) just feels awkward and slightly uncomfortable. The only one whose gaze never seems to break while he can see her from the corner of his eye is Michael Burnham’s. After a brief smile towards Nhan in return, he clears his throat.

“Captain, you asked to speak to me?”

“Yes, Commander.”

Saru explains the set of maneuvers they need to do and asks him if it’s possible to make the required modifications to the spore drive. Michael joins the conversation with valuable details about their hypothesis, staring at him intently as she makes her point. Paul runs a few quick calculations in his mind, goes through all the relevant parameters, before answering that it should be possible if they can modify their plan a bit, and that the result might work even better than they’d hoped.

While his brain is occupied with science, he even manages to forget about the awkward tension in the room for a while. Once their discussion has reached a conclusion, Saru seems satisfied with his solution and asks him to get to it and inform them as soon as it’s ready. Then he’s dismissed.

“May I have a word, Commander?”

It’s Nhan, suddenly by his side again. She’s wearing a most suspicious, sly little smile. Paul frowns and follows her into a quieter corner of the room.

“So I stuck my feelers out a bit, as you humans say,” she begins, her voice low so no-one else can overhear what she’s saying. “And actually, nobody has anything but nice things to say about you, Commander.”

Paul raises an eyebrow. Her smile grows bigger, more certain.

“In fact, someone — who shall remain anonymous — told me you were looking particularly charming this morning.”

The other eyebrow follows. “That’s not something I hear often. Or ever.”

“The exact word they chose was ‘cute’.”

“Was it Doctor Culber who said this, by any chance?”

“Commander, I’d hope if it had been him, he would have just said that to your face.”

“Okay, that’s fair.”

“Maybe you’re more popular than you think,” Nhan offers with a warm, genuine smile.

Paul sighs. “I’m still not convinced this isn’t all an elaborate prank. But thank you for everything.” He returns her smile in kind.

With a nod, she turns around and heads back to her station, and Paul steps off the bridge. Just as the turbolift doors are about to close, Michael slips in after him. His eyebrow twitches up minutely, but he doesn’t say anything, instead just nods slightly to acknowledge her presence as the turbolift starts moving.

He’s about to open his mouth and ask her where she would like to go, since it seems unlikely to him that they’d be heading in the same direction, when he notices her restless, almost fidgety demeanor — completely unusual for her in all the time they’ve known each other. He watches in confused fascination as she looks around the turbolift cubicle, possibly struggling for words, before finally, her gaze settles on him with an intense determination that feels a little out of place in here.

“Mr. Stamets,” she begins, and her voice sounds so sincere in the situation that it’s almost comical how out of tune it feels. He thought he’d offered that she call him “Paul” at some point in the past, but apparently not. Maybe he should bring that up at some point — though right now somehow doesn’t feel like the right time. “I — what you —” She pauses and tries again. “When we were going through these time loops that Harry Mudd created, I — I believe that you told me about some advice you gave me during one of them.”

 _Okay_ , Paul thinks, _this is unexpected._ He doesn’t interrupt her, though, thinking back to his call with Hugh earlier. Patience. Listen and wait. She’ll get there. And her slightly awkward, convoluted and, in a way, very Vulcan struggle to express herself is somehow endearing to watch. He tries his best at an encouraging smile.

“You said that honesty is important, and not hiding who you are, which is an admirable and logical way to deal with feelings. Thank you for advising me in such a way that was approachable to me back then.”

Paul’s smile grows fonder. “You’re welcome, Commander Burnham. I’m glad that I could help you. Not just while we were in the loop, but also beyond that.”

“What I am trying to say is — I am grateful for your acquaintance, and for our — our connection. And I’m — Would you like to have dinner with me?”

Paul blinks. Once. Twice. Three times.

They’re staring at each other in the sudden silence that follows her words. Paul notices the furious blush that has grown across her cheeks as soon as she’s finished speaking. She already looks like she is deeply regretting her decision.

Paul doesn’t know what to do with the absurdity of the situation. _She can’t have implied what this just sounded like, right? This is simply between us as friends. It has to be. Right? Sometimes words come out wrong. It happens._ Paul Stamets knows that better than almost anyone. He clears his throat.

“Of course,” he says with a friendly smile, trying to dissolve the awkwardness of the moment and put her at ease. “I’d be happy to.”

A tiny bit of her embarrassment gives way to relief, and Paul himself is relieved as well to see it. “Uhm, so. Tonight?”

“Sure.”

The turbolift chimes and the doors open to Paul’s requested location. They both exit the lift and there’s another awkward pause before Michael says, “I guess I’ll see you tonight, then?”

“Yes, tonight.” Paul smiles. “Goodbye, Commander.”

She nods, suddenly seeming lost for words and with her eyes on the floor, before spinning around and heading off in the opposite direction. Paul frowns; as far as he knows there’s not much in that corner apart from some rarely-used maintenance rooms. But he decides to leave her to it; he assumes that she might simply want to be alone.

As he turns the next corner on his way back to the lab, he promptly collides with someone, and they both land on the floor.

“Sir!”

“Oww…” Paul covers his face, carefully touching his nose. He feels a hand on his shoulder and squints at the person in front of him. “Lieutenant Rhys?”

“I’m so sorry, Commander, I didn’t see you at all!”

He shakes his head, after assessing that neither his nose nor any other part of him is broken. Hopefully. The young officer is indeed a lot sturdier than he looks, and Paul shouldn’t be surprised, he’s heard enough anecdotes from Hugh about seeing him sparring at the gym and occasionally joining him for a round or two. He may look kind and unassuming, but according to Hugh, his hand-to-hand combat skills are outstanding and he’s in excellent physical condition. Paul suspects that he must have been walking down the corridor at a rather impressive speed, too, judging by the force with which he was hit.

“It’s okay,” he mutters, and Rhys helps him get up from the floor. “Thank you.”

“I was running a little late for my shift, I should’ve paid more attention. Are you alright?”

Paul jumps a little at his face suddenly being so close; his one hand is still on Paul’s shoulder while the other is gently tipping up his chin to get a look at his face.

“Good, you’re not bleeding at least.”

“N-no, I’m fine,” he stammers, and reflexively takes a small step back to avoid the awkwardness of the moment. Rhys immediately blushes and lets both of his hands fall to his sides. Paul chuckles nervously to defuse the situation. “Feels like I ran into a wall… or rather, like the wall ran into me.” Rhys pales, and Paul quickly follows with, “But I’m okay, really. Thanks for checking.”

“I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I injured you, Sir.”

“Even if you did, I’m not gonna hold it against you. It was an accident. I know a few people who speak very highly of you, and I’m inclined to trust their judgment.”

Now Rhys is blushing again, and it’s one of these moments where Paul worries if he took his honesty too far again.

“Thank you, Sir, that — that means a lot, coming from you.”

Paul chuckles again. “Because I’m notoriously rude and grumpy?”

“What? No — not at all! I mean — well, because you’re very special, and… Actually, I think a lot of people on this ship really like you and care about you. And not just Tilly or Linus or — or Airiam…” He bites his lip, and Paul feels a sting of pain. He knows that they were close, until she died. Rhys is one of the people who were affected the hardest by her death. Not that she ever shared many details with Paul, of course, that wasn’t really the kind of relationship they had. Linus has dropped mentions of the subject now and then, and Paul appreciates that they seem to be stories of healing, as slowly as it may be going. The two of them seem to be good for each other. This whole group of friends, actually — somehow, like so often, with Tilly in their middle. He smiles fondly.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, putting a hand on Rhys’s arm. “Now that we’re all here, in the future… I guess we’ve all become a family. When I first boarded this ship, I thought the only person I wanted in my life and cared about on it would be Doctor Culber. But all of you have grown on me, so much. I… I feel your love, and I share it.”

The next moment, he wonders if he’s said something wrong because Rhys’s expression suddenly changes to something flustered and blushing and extremely awkward, his gaze dropping to the floor. Paul isn’t sure if he feels comfortable with being the cause of it. He lowers his hand.

“I, uh, well, that is a lot… yes… um…”

Paul’s face falls. He tries to defuse the discomfort. “Um, I’m sorry. Now you’re late for your shift because of me.”

Rhys shakes his head, looking grateful for the change of subject. “Nah… It’s okay Sir, I was already going to be late anyway.”

“Tell the Captain that you’re late because I held you up.”

Rhys looks up at him again. “Are you sure, Sir?”

”Absolutely. I’ll back you up if necessary. But I doubt it will be.”

At last, his face lights up again. He’s still blushing, and Paul isn’t sure what to make of it, but he’s relieved to see him more at ease now at least.

“Thank you, Sir! I — um, I’ll be on my way.”

Paul looks after him as he sprints off down the corridor, a fond smile on his lips again. He’s more than okay with being the slightly weird gay uncle of this new, found family.

***

Finally back in Engineering, Paul exhales deeply and tries to shake off all thoughts about the various odd encounters of the day so far. Linus has made good progress on their samples and taken over the check-up of the cultivation bay that he’d scheduled earlier and meant to do himself. Paul finds a note from him in his messages, remarking that he found nothing out of the ordinary. He frowns. So nothing there that would’ve caused the change in Tilly’s behavior, it seems.

In the end, he decides to check it again himself, just to make sure, but finds nothing more than Linus already did. He does track some changes in one of the Stella batches in the back and a slightly concerning deterioration of one right next to it, and returns to the main room to conduct the necessary calculations for adjusting the environmental settings of his forest.

His PADD dings with a message. It’s Hugh.

_[Lt. Cmdr. Culber, Hugh / MED]: Dinner tonight?_

Paul picks it up to type his answer.

_[Lt. Cmdr. Stamets, Paul / SCI]: Sorry, honey. Michael asked me to eat dinner with her._

He doesn’t have to wait long for the reply.

_[Lt. Cmdr. Culber, Hugh / MED]: Oh? Should I be jealous?_

_[Lt. Cmdr. Stamets, Paul / SCI]: Ha ha. See you later tonight!_

_[Lt. Cmdr. Culber, Hugh / MED]: Can’t wait!_

With a smile, he puts the PADD back down next to him on the console and returns to his calculations. The peace and quiet doesn’t last long, however, because a couple of minutes later, Reno walks in.

As usual, she’s humming to herself while carrying a large toolbox in one hand as she strolls past him. After passing his workstation, however, she freezes in her tracks, then takes a step backwards, stares at him. Paul looks up with mild confusion, studying her face in an attempt to figure out what’s going on.

“Good afternoon, Commander. Is something wrong?” he asks. She just continues to stare, her expression something unreadable that he’s never seen before. If he had to guess, it seems as if she’s analyzing a problem. He frowns. “What’s the matter?”

“You,” she suddenly responds, dropping her toolbox to the floor with a loud clatter, then walks up to him and grabs his arm, pointing the other thumb over her shoulder, “with me.”

“Wh-what?” Paul stumbles away from the console while she drags him along behind her towards the exit. “Where are we going? What the f— what the _hell_ is going on, Commander?”

“We’re going to sickbay.”

Puzzled, Paul lets her drag him along.

***

As the doors to sickbay slide open and Reno marches him through, several heads turn around to stare at them. Paul feels the heat that immediately creeps into his cheeks; he hates this type of attention. Besides, Reno still hasn’t told him why they’re here.

“Doc!” she yells in Hugh’s direction. Paul winces. “We need you.”

Hugh looks up from the patient he’s just been treating. A frown sprouts on his face. As Reno stalks over, still with him in tow, Paul feels far too many eyes on him and a strong desire to dematerialize on the spot. Does she really have to make this even more awkward?

He watches Hugh briefly turn his attention back to his patient, the gentle, professional smile immediately returning, probably excusing himself before he calls one of the nurses to take over from him. Then he straightens up and walks up to the two of them, guiding them to a free biobed with a chair next to it in the corner of the room.

“Commanders,” he greets them, although Paul notices a hint of concern in his voice that he hopes only sounds ever so slightly like annoyance. “How can I help you?”

“That’s what I’d like to know as well,” Paul remarks with a frown in Reno’s direction.

Ignoring him, she responds, “Doctor, I need immediate help.”

“Okay. What’s wrong, Commander?”

“I felt an _attraction_ towards your partner. So, clearly, something must be very, _very_ wrong with me.”

Hugh stares at her. As does Paul.

“What?” they both say at the same time.

Hugh is the first to regain his composure, apparently. “Can you elaborate?”

“Listen, doc. I am gay. Really, _really_ gay. As a matter of fact, I’m ready to fight both of you for the title of ‘gayest member of this crew’, and I am sure I’m gonna win.” Hugh watches her with an expression like he’s thinking about accepting that challenge, but he doesn’t interrupt her. “So I have no idea what’s going on here, but I need you to fix it.”

“Okay,” Hugh responds. His brows are drawing together now, and Paul recognizes the shift in nuance: He’s entered full doctor mode. The sight almost puts a smile on his face. “Can you tell me since when?”

“Well, I just saw him for the first time today a few minutes ago when I entered Engineering, and that was the first time I felt it.”

Hugh nods, putting a hand on his chin. “What about yesterday?”

“I was crawling through Jeffries tubes all day, barely saw a soul, to be honest. The day before that, everything was as usual. The three of us had lunch together, remember?”

Hugh analyzes her report for a few moments, deep in thought, before he speaks. “All right. I’d like to do a few tests on both of you. Commander Reno, you go first. Commander Stamets already went through a full check-up yesterday, and maybe something happened in the tubes.” He turns to Paul. “Can you give us some space? Grab the chair and wait over there in the corner.”

“Can’t I go back to work and you call me when—”

“No.” Hugh’s face is firm, his mouth a straight line.

Paul nods obediently, drags the chair over into the corner as told, and sits down while Hugh examines Reno. To be honest, he suspects that Hugh doesn’t want to let him out of his sight, because he’s _doctoring_ again.

When they’re done, Reno sits up on the biobed and Hugh gestures for Paul to come over while tapping through the results on his screen.

Reno eyes him with a concern that Paul can’t entirely tell is genuine or sarcastic. “Please tell me, Doctor: Is it terminal?”

Hugh frowns at her briefly in a way that suggests he interpreted it as the latter. Still, when he speaks, his voice sounds completely professional as always. “I couldn’t find anything wrong with you, Commander. Have you had any similar reactions to anyone else?”

“Anyone male, you mean? Nope. Not in the last nine hundred sixty years at least.”

Hugh stares ahead for a few more moments, clearly looking at some point far beyond her head, deep in thought, with his hand on his lips again. Then he sighs. “Alright. Your turn, Paul.”

Reno hops off the bed. “Can I go?”

“Since I have no idea how long this is gonna take: yes, you can go. I’ll call you when we’re done.”

“All right. See ya, doc, mushroom guy.”

Paul glares after her as she exits the room with a wave of her hand over her shoulder. “Why did I have to stay?” he asks while he settles down on the bed.

Hugh blushes, his eyes flickering to Paul and then quickly back to his screen. Paul tilts his head.

“What?”

“Since this doesn’t seem to be coming from Reno,” Hugh mutters, so low that no-one besides Paul can hear him, while he pulls up Paul’s patient file, “I’d rather keep you close in case anyone else around here starts fancying you.”

Paul can’t suppress a surprised laugh at that. “Are you getting _possessive_ over me, dear doctor?”

The blush deepens.

“Okay, that’s hot.”

“Shut up and lie down.”

Paul does as ordered, but not without a shameless grin at Hugh.

They repeat every single test from the previous day, and then some more. The blood scan seems to take forever, and while he waits for the results, Paul notices once again that almost everyone else in the room seems to be stealing glances in their direction — and in a few cases openly staring — suspiciously more often than usual.

After they’ve run every test reasonably imaginable (and some, in Paul’s opinion, unreasonable ones), he finally gets to sit up as Hugh analyzes all the data they’ve collected.

“You said that people on the ship have been acting weird around you all day?”

“Yes.”

“All of them?”

Paul takes a moment to consider it. “No. Almost, but not everyone.”

“Like who?” Hugh asks. Paul frowns at him. “Anyone you specifically noticed?”

Paul recounts the day’s events and interactions in his mind. “I’ve been feeling all day like people were staring at me, or paying way more attention to me than usual.” He glances around awkwardly before turning back to Hugh. “Even right now, in here.”

Hugh reaches out to put a hand on his arm. It’s a reflexive gesture Paul is well-accustomed to, his way of offering comfort, sometimes for Paul’s sake, sometimes for them both. Hugh’s always been tactile like this, in private and here in sickbay, as well as — though to a lesser extent than when he’s treating Paul — with all of his patients. In moments of questionable sobriety, Paul has wondered if it’s a gift of his, this touch that just seems to magically calm people down. Today, he’s noticed, Hugh seems to be touching him even more often than usual.

“What about individuals?” Hugh asks him.

“Well, aside from you… Linus was acting normal. Tilly was _definitely_ weird. Hmm… I had lunch with Nhan and she…” His voice trails off.

“Her, too?”

“Hm? Oh, no — no, not at all. I even asked her directly, and she said nothing was out of the ordinary. She offered to ‘investigate’, so to speak, and later on the bridge told me people were saying nice things about me.”

Hugh smiles and raises an eyebrow at Paul’s disbelieving tone. “It’s more likely than you think, you know.”

“On the bridge,” Paul suddenly remembers, “I was talking to Saru and everything was normal, but then Burnham…”

“She asked to have dinner with you, you said?”

“Yes, and was acting really strange the whole time. I mean, she was saying very sweet things and being kind as usual, but also definitely _un_ usual, if you know what I mean?”

“Okay… Anyone else?”

“Well, Reno in Engin… No, wait. Before returning to Engineering I ran into Rhys, and we talked briefly.”

“What about him?”

Paul furrows his brows again, scrunching up his face. “I don’t know him that well to compare, but he was being kind of shy and nervous, but I couldn’t figure out why.”

“Doesn’t sound like him,” Hugh says, getting lost in thought. He scrolls through Paul’s test results, clicking his way through what looks like several simulations. His eyes narrow, and the longer his silence continues, the more worried does Paul get.

“Any answers?” he nervously asks after a while.

“I think I might have something,” Hugh says slowly. “Here, look. That seems to be it.”

Paul frowns at it. “What is that? Looks like very complex chemicals that I’m not familiar with.”

“Pheromones.”

“Come again?”

“I suspect that it’s the alien gas compound you were exposed to yesterday. It must have triggered some reactions in your system that led to your body producing a strong pheromone.”

Paul stares at him for a long time, at a loss for what to say at the revelation. “… What?”

“Tilly didn’t get hit with the full dose of it, and even then it might have been a reaction unique to you because of your tardigrade DNA.”

“So… that’s why people have been acting strange around me all day? Because they were, what, lusting after me?”

Hugh has to bite his lip to suppress his grin. It’s not very effective.

“But why were some people not affected at all?”

“It only seems to be having an effect on humans.”

Paul recounts the interactions of the day again. Linus, Nhan, Saru — Hugh’s explanation checks out. “Even Reno?” he asks slowly.

“It’s working directly on a chemical level, so apparently, yes. And by the looks of it, it’s pretty strong.”

“Wow,” Paul mutters with a compassionate smile. “No wonder she was so distressed.” He looks back up at Hugh, and the smile disappears. “I don’t think I want this kind of attention. Now what do we do?”

“I don’t know. I’d like to discuss it with Tracy, see if we can come up with a solution. Maybe we’ll have to wait for this to go away on its own.”

Paul’s heart sinks. “How long do you think that’s gonna take?”

“I don’t know. Until your body has processed and expelled all of the alien substance. Maybe a few days?”

“Ohh, f— please, no.”

“Hey,” Hugh says, taking both of Paul’s hands in his own. “We’ll figure this out. It’ll be okay. And you don’t seem to be in any danger from it, it’s just affecting everyone else.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Paul can see people looking at him again. He sighs and nods. “I guess this is how you feel all the time?” he asks, trying to lighten his own mood.

Hugh chuckles. “You’re overestimating me.”

“You really have no idea, huh?”

Paul looks into his eyes fondly, and they’re spilling over with affection and warmth. He remembers that he almost lost this, once again can’t imagine how he ever could have lived without it. He thanks the universe once more for giving him Hugh back.

“So, what are we gonna do with you?” Hugh finally asks. “I can send you home until we’ve found a solution or this wears off.”

Paul cocks his head, wearing a frown. “Why? I’m feeling fine. I can work. There’s plenty to do.”

Hugh nods slowly. “Okay. That’s fair. But I’ll talk to the Captain about your condition. He’ll need to be informed of any side effects of your last mission anyway. Maybe we should also let people know to leave you alone and ignore whatever effects your presence might be having on them.”

Paul’s stomach fills with dread. “Please don’t make me a ship-wide memo.”

“I just thought it would make things easier for you, and less awkward.”

“I don’t know. Either option sounds awkward to me.”

Hugh squeezes his hands. “I get it, babe.”

Paul’s frown deepens as he looks at Hugh. “How come it doesn’t seem to have any effect on you?”

Hugh lets out a genuine, heartfelt laugh, the kind that makes him throw his head back. “Oh, believe me, it does. I’m just well-accustomed to being head over heels in love with you, so I can handle it better than the rest of the ship.” He looks into Paul’s eyes and a smirk plays around his lips as he lowers his voice. “Plus, I’m the only one around here who’s actually allowed to act on these feelings, so that certainly helps, too. But you have no idea how much self-restraint it’s taking right now not to drag you into the nearest supply closet and get you out of your pants.”

Paul laughs, not caring for a moment how hard he’s blushing or if anyone is staring or not.

“Okay, what’s going on here?” It’s Doctor Pollard who has just marched over to them, stemming her fists into her hips and fixing them both with a stern look.

“Sorry about the noise,” Hugh says with a good-natured smile.

“That’s not the problem.” She looks at Hugh, and Paul can see now that she’s genuinely concerned. “You’ve been running tests on him again. Found out anything?”

“Yes,” Hugh says and quickly explains the situation to her. Her eyebrows keep rising higher as he speaks. To Paul, it looks like an even mix of outraged disbelief and understanding. When she closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose with her fingers, she already seems to have entered problem-solving mode.

“Okay, we’ll figure something out. But you really should get that memo out to everyone.” Paul opens his mouth to protest, but she interrupts him. “I know you don’t like this, but unless you want to stay quarantined at home, that’s all we can do. Some of our patients have already been inquiring about you.”

Paul blushes. Then Pollard turns to back to Hugh.

“Culber, take your man and get him out of here. The team can’t work while he’s distracting everyone like this. Go tell the Captain, and I’ll get back to you about finding a cure.”

“Thank you, Tracy,” Hugh responds with a smile, and helps Paul off the biobed and out of the room.

***

The conversation with Saru is definitely an awkward one, although their Captain handles it gracefully as always. Paul still really could’ve done without the ship-wide memo they put out.

“People are still staring,” he mutters while Hugh drops him off in Engineering.

“You know you could just go home now if you wanted? Your shift is nearly over anyway.”

Paul gives him a warm smile. “I know. But I wanna at least wrap this last thing up. And then…” He takes a deep breath. “I guess I’ll have dinner with Michael Burnham. That’s gonna be an awkward experience.”

Hugh squeezes his arm. “You’ll be fine. Both of you.” He pauses, his eyes filled with affection and warmth. Paul knows what he’s thinking, because they’re both thinking the same thing: _This is where I would kiss you, if we were alone, but for the sake of professionalism and privacy, we’re limiting our PDA._ “I’ll see you later.” With a smile, he lets go of Paul’s arm and turns for the door. Paul watches him as he leaves.

***

On the way to his dinner with Michael Burnham, Paul hears someone call his name and turns around.

“Lieutenant Commander Stamets,” Elis says, catching up with him. Paul remembers seeing the Andorian earlier among the group of scientists passing him by in the corridor. He also recalls the… somewhat unpleasant contact that happened there, and swallows.

“Lieutenant Elis,” he greets her politely. “Can I help you?”

“Uhm, actually, I — uh, I wanted to apologize to you…” She looks flustered, making him frown in confusion. “I just saw the memo from the Captain about your… well, _condition_.”

Paul can feel his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. If everyone he comes across is going to bring this up now…

“When we were passing you by in the corridor earlier, uh… I’m really sorry. I think I bumped into you awkwardly. I was embarrassed and hoped you wouldn’t notice, or maybe just forget about it. But now that I know what happened, I feel really bad about it. I just wanted you to know that… you know, that wasn’t on purpose. And the rest of my team were talking about you earlier, although I didn’t understand what was supposed to be so much more interesting about you than before. But I hope you don’t think that we — that any of them are guilty of any, um, misconduct towards a fellow crew member.”

Pau’s lips form a smile at her sincerity. “I accept your apology. Thank you for telling me, Lieutenant.”

“Phew.” She lets out a breath of relief. “I’m glad to hear that. I respect you very much as a fellow scientist, Sir.”

“Likewise.”

She inclines her head in a farewell of sorts before she turns around again and is on her way.

***

As soon as Paul sits down, Michael folds her hands on the table in front of her, a solemn expression on her face. Paul tries to push aside his own embarrassment when he sees her discomfort.

“Commander,” she begins, with that trained formality, just one step above Starfleet customs, that her Vulcan upbringing imbued her with. “I believe I owe you an apology.”

Paul raises an eyebrow curiously. “For what?”

“Earlier today, on the bridge — and particularly afterwards, in the turbolift — I — I would like to apologize for my behavior. I was acting very unprofessionally towards you, not only while we were both on duty, but also in light of the fact that you are in a committed relationship, which I was fully aware of.”

With a kind smile, Paul puts a hand on top of hers. “We’re not on duty now,” he responds, “so please call me ‘Paul’.”

She finally meets his eyes, lowering her hands a little. Slowly, she nods. “Michael. Thank you… Paul.”

“I assume you saw the internal memo?”

She nods again, and Paul can see that she is blushing.

“When you approached me, I had no idea about that yet. You weren’t being inappropriate in the slightest. It was unexpected, for sure, and a little unusual. But I didn’t take it for anything other than a meal date between friends.” He lightly squeezes her hands. “We are friends, right?”

Finally, she returns his smile. “Yes, of course.”

“Good.” He lets go of her. “Then let’s have dinner, shall we?”

With the awkward tension between them gone, they both pick their meals of choice, conversing easily about different scientific matters with a few anecdotes from their lives on the ship sprinkled in.

“I have a question, though,” Paul says after a while. “Or a request, if you will. Have you talked to your roommate today?”

Michael pauses, carefully choosing her words, it seems. “I did talk to Tilly, yes. Or rather, she talked to me.”

“She seemed very… odd today. I just want her to know that she has nothing to be embarrassed about.”

A smile blossoms on Michael’s face again, the one he’s noticed often when she thinks about Tilly. “I’ll make sure to let her know.”

“Thank you.”

The rest of their dinner is just as pleasant, and when they part for the night, Paul thinks, both of their moods have significantly improved.

***

When he arrives in his quarters — their shared quarters, again, the joyful leap of his heart reminds him — Hugh is waiting for him, jumping up from the couch where he’s been sitting, already in his Starfleet pajamas to greet him right there at the door, grabbing him and pulling him in for a passionate kiss.

“Hi honey, I’m home,” Paul says, grinning, when they part.

“That you are,” Hugh mutters against his lips with a satisfied grin of his own. “Finally.”

Something about the tone of his voice makes Paul shiver, in the best possible way. “Sorry I kept you waiting.”

Hugh shakes his head. “I survived.” Paul chuckles at how dramatic he’s being. “How was your dinner?”

“It was nice.” He lets Hugh gently guide him over to the bed, his barely contained impatient energy not lost on Paul after all the time they’ve known each other. “She apologized, I told her it’s fine. We’re on a first name basis now.”

Hugh frowns. “You weren’t already?”

“Apparently not.” Paul shrugs. “We had a fun conversation. And she invited us both to have dinner with her, or her and Tilly, any time. After my current condition has worn off, I assume.”

“Right…” Hugh looks like he’s starting to get distracted again, mesmerized by Paul’s lips. “I look forward to it.”

“Hugh, are you okay?” Paul asks him with a hint of amusement.

“This must have been the longest day of my life,” Hugh mutters, his hands already roaming all over Paul’s torso, his arms, face, hips, ass… “Waiting to get back here with you.”

“What’s it like?” Paul asks, resting both of his hands on Hugh’s chest. “This… I mean, the effect of this… pheromone thing?”

This causes Hugh to pause for a moment and stare at him incredulously. Then he laughs. “That’s what you’re curious about now? Ever the scientist, huh?”

“Hey,” Paul protests, but it’s lighthearted and good-natured. “Maybe. But I also wanna know what this is doing to you.”

“Well, Paul Stamets… I guess you’re doing to me what you’re always doing to me. It’s just kind of… as if the chemistry between us, the… physical aspect, I guess, is even stronger, more intense.” His hands have started roaming again, and Paul savors their touch. “On an emotional level, I love you, just like I always have. Physically… it’s like I’m drawn to you even more than usual. And—” here he accentuates every word with a kiss, traveling from Paul’s left cheek down along his neck— “you — smell — absolutely — amazing.”

It’s making Paul giggle with delight, and he pulls Hugh even closer.

***

Paul is in his cultivation bay the next morning, scanning and inspecting his Stella and taking notes, when someone timidly clears their throat behind him.

“U-uhm, Sir…?”

He recognizes her before he even turns around from where he’s crouching on the floor. “Ensign Tilly,” he greets her with a smile.

“Ca-can I talk to you for a second?” Her face is almost as red as her hair.

“Sure!” Paul gets up, groaning slightly after having been down there for so long.

“So, um, about yesterday… A-and actually the day before that, when we returned from the mission and I was, um, kind of — kind of clinging to you, um…” Paul remembers the moment; he hadn’t thought much of it at the time and almost forgotten it completely. “I guess I just wanted to say — just wanted to, um, apologize, because I guess I was, um — I mean, I know my — my thoughts were kinda really inappropriate, I guess…” Panic creeps into her face. “I mean — not that I was thinking inappropriate things about you, just that — uh…” She covers her face with her hand; she’s somehow turned even redder, even though Paul hadn’t thought it possible. “Anyway!” Her voice sounds even more high-pitched now. “Uh, this is really awkward, and I am so, so, so sorry for making you uncomfortable and for running off yesterday and not finishing my work and…”

Her speech dissolves into her familiar rambles, so Paul decides to gently interrupt her. “Tilly. It’s okay.”

She looks up at him again. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Really. I mean—” he clears his throat, but smiles at her fondly— “I don’t know what you were thinking, and I really don’t want to know… But your behavior wasn’t inappropriate to me at all. And don’t worry about the work. You always work so hard, and your contributions here have always been invaluable.”

She seems unable to meet his eyes again. “Uh… I mean. Whew. Th-thanks, Sir. Um. I know I’m usually bad at handling compliments, but I think I just forgot how to breathe.”

Paul’s smile falters. He also remembers the awkward moment with Rhys in the corridor the previous day, and how he didn’t think anything of the compliments he paid him at the time and how they may have made his young crewmate uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, Ensign, I — I didn’t mean to… Um… If you’re uncomfortable with this situation and want to take some time off, or transfer to another department until this wears off, we can arrange that, too.”

“Uhm, no, thank you, I — I think I’ll be… I think I can manage this. Maybe I’ll try to keep to myself for a little bit.”

“Of course. Do what feels best to you.”

A moment of awkward silence hangs between them.

“This is… weird,” Tilly says, fumbling with the lid of the spore container she brought with her, and turning her back to him to start collecting spores from the row of fungi behind her. “I’m just — I mean, I’m really not used to having any sort of feelings of this kind towards you… um, Sir.”

“I would hope so,” Paul mutters, chuckling, as he turns around to tend to his mushrooms as well. “And you should’ve seen Commander Reno yesterday; I’ve never seen her so distressed.”

A laugh escapes from Tilly, and some of the tension between them seems to dissolve. “I bet she was horrified.”

They continue their work, mostly in companionable silence, until it’s time for Tilly’s lunch break.

***

_[Lt. Cmdr. Stamets, Paul / SCI]: Any good news yet?_

_[Lt. Cmdr. Culber, Hugh / MED]: Sorry, honey, I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do but wait for it to wear off on its own._

_[Lt. Cmdr. Stamets, Paul / SCI]: Fuck._

_[Lt. Cmdr. Culber, Hugh / MED]: Language, Commander. This is an official channel._

_[Lt. Cmdr. Stamets, Paul / SCI]: Come over here and stop me._

_[Lt. Cmdr. Culber, Hugh / MED]: Depends. Have you had lunch yet?_

_[Lt. Cmdr. Culber, Hugh / MED]: Paul?_

_[Lt. Cmdr. Culber, Hugh / MED]: Alright then, I assume that’s a ‘no’._

It doesn’t even take five minutes for the door to Engineering to slide open and reveal Hugh Culber in his immaculate white uniform. His expression is unusually hard, but as his eyes fall on Paul, he simply can’t help it softening up just the tiniest bit, a detail which, as always, isn’t lost on Paul.

“Doctor Culber,” Paul greets him in the most professional manner he’s capable of, while being fully aware that everyone in the room knows about their relationship. He was just on the way back from the reaction cube to his workstation, where he can see the messages on his screen out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m here to ensure your sufficient intake of nutrients, Commander,” Hugh greets him a little coldly, his posture straight and his hands behind his back. “Since you conveniently ignored my inquiring messages.”

“I actually had urgent work to do in the spore chamber, Doctor, which is why I didn’t see your follow-up messages.”

Hugh tilts his head, still fixing Paul with a stern look. “So, you already had lunch?”

Caught, Paul chews the inside of his lower lip, his face turning into a grimace that can almost pass for a smile. “No, but I would be delighted if you joined me right now, Doctor.”

“Alright,” Hugh responds, finally giving in to a smile. “Then let’s go.”

***

As they turn the corner into the next corridor, Hugh leans in and whispers into his ear, “Think we have time for a little detour?”

Paul raises both eyebrows in amusement. Ever since they got back together after the Discovery’s jump to the future, both of them have been trying to make more time for each other, and this has included sneaking away on occasion during their shared breaks (and, on much rarer occasions, while they were technically both on shift in the cultivation bay) for some more _private_ time. Paul assumes that, in part, it’s the constant pressure of Lorca breathing down his neck and the backdrop of the war being gone. But most of all, they’re both trying to do better than they had before, lately, being both more giving and _for_ giving towards each other.

He has noticed, however, that Hugh has been particularly affectionate ever since Paul got back from that last away mission. After he’s let Hugh lead him into an unused private meeting room that they’ve utilized once or twice before, due to its convenient location right along the way from Engineering to the Mess Hall, and they’ve securely locked the door behind them, he pulls Hugh in for a kiss, cradling his face in his hands even after their lips part.

“Should I be concerned for you, Doctor?”

“What d’you mean?” Hugh asks, his fingers already teasing along the waistband of Paul’s uniform pants.

“Not that I’m not thoroughly enjoying your affection,” Paul explains, and Hugh stops to look at him now. “I’ve just been noticing a sudden change in your behavior, and like you’ve told me before, it’s important to monitor something like that carefully.”

“You know where this is coming from.”

Paul smiles. “I suppose so, yes. Just wanting to check in with you if everything’s alright.”

The purely _adoring_ expression on Hugh’s face almost makes his heart spill over. “You’re the sweetest, Paul. Gosh, I love you.” Hugh’s lips capture his again. “I promise I’m okay. Just a little less in control of my hormones around you at the moment, I guess. And…”

Paul tilts his head. “And?”

“I don’t know, somehow… I guess all this attention that everyone is giving you lately is making me feel a little… protective.” And he’s blushing. _How cute._

Paul throws his head back, laughing. “You know you have nothing to worry about, right?”

“I know that…” Hugh bites his lower lip, and it’s mesmerizing. “But maybe you could still remind me of it?”

Paul’s mouth forms a grin. “Well, then let me demonstrate.”

***

Afterwards, Lieutenant Commanders Stamets and Culber are sitting together at a table in the Mess Hall, trying to enjoy their meal even though they have to cut their lunch break a little short. They’re chatting and laughing, completely ignoring the people throwing more than just occasional glances in their direction, and even the few who are openly staring. There are a few wrinkles in Hugh’s usually so immaculate white uniform, and Paul’s hair isn’t as perfectly styled as usual, looking more like he tried to brush it back in place after it got thoroughly messed up.

They also don’t care at all what people might be saying, whispering to each other over their own lunches — although Hugh will later find out, and tell Paul, that some of the comments included the notion that it was really unfair of the universe to combine so much hotness in one couple, and that it was more than a little inconsiderate of them to rub it into everyone’s face by barely concealing the fact that they’d just spent the prior half of their break having a little private fun together. Then they both blush, each slightly embarrassed that they let their professional image slip up like this in public, before breaking into giggles and proceeding to kiss each other and make even more of a mess out of their professional appearances as well as their bedsheets.

It takes a few more days for Paul’s condition to completely wear off, and while Hugh is, of course, happy about the new appreciation that a lot of their crew mates have found for his partner, he’s also very happy once he’s got him all to himself again.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you so much to everyone who leaves lovely and supportive comments on my fics! Even if I usually don’t know how to adequately respond to them, please be assured that they make me super happy and brighten my day! <3


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